


1920s Ineffable Husbands

by cupcakecat22



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakecat22/pseuds/cupcakecat22
Summary: Takes place after the original holy water fight where they’ve made up about that and realized they really only have eyes for each other. After it ends, they don’t meet again until the church scene in 1941 when Crowley just has to save his angel.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1920s Ineffable Husbands

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored and had an idea

Aziraphale very much enjoyed spending time in the dark downstairs areas of special buildings, where young men made eyes at each other and brass bands played and liquor poured. What he liked more than shooting glances at the men in these places was staying holed up in his newly opened bookshop, where no books were ever purchased and really acted more as a place for Aziraphale to collect and store rare books. 

It was one of the previous places that the demon approached the angel (not the bookshop, though the demon had popped by there on one memorable occasion involving alcohol and a darkened room). The demon who called himself Anthony J. Crowley looked like someone that a certain kind of men would very much like to meet with in a dark alley. And he was rather good at lurking in alleys, but not for the same reasons that these men would have hoped, or that his head office would have hoped either. Crowley was very good at getting into mischief and greatly inconveniencing people, but other than that, he wasn’t terribly evil. In fact, the heads of hell would be utterly appalled at the behavior he was exhibiting now, and not because he had a stroke of demonic genius resulting in the securing of souls for their master. 

Crowley slid onto the barstool across from Aziraphale at a tall table, his ever-present dark glasses upon his face despite the dim lighting of the room. Aziraphale didn’t acknowledge him, merely staring out at the men dancing with not a breath of space between their bodies. The sight still brought a light flush to the angel’s full cheeks. 

“Hey Angel, what brings you here?” Crowley asked, his voice smooth with a flirty undercurrent that sent a thrill down Aziraphale’s spine, “I would’ve thought your sort to be the type to look down upon these kinds of places, them being ‘dens of iniquity’ and all that.”

“Well, if you must know, I rather enjoy the nightlife here,” Aziraphale replied somewhat defensively, “there are few other places in the area with as good a band as they have here.” 

“So you’re here just for the music? Not because you’re getting bored and wanted someone to occupy your time?” Crowley asked, glancing at his manicured fingers. The angel across from him rolled his eyes. Only Crowley would be so obtuse; while the angel did get bored and had a great enjoyment of flirting, there was only one person who he really wanted to flirt with or do otherwise. 

“Not at all,” Aziraphale answered, “how do you know I wasn’t coming here hoping to catch the attention of a certain fallen angel?” The angel watched as a blush spread across Crowley’s face, smirking with pleasure at how flustered he was able to make the smooth-talking demon. 

“Would you like a drink?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded, still a bit flushed. The angel stood and walked to the bar where he ordered a drink for each of them. As Aziraphale picked them up, a man sidled up to him and ran his fingers down the angel’s arm, asking if he wanted to dance. Aziraphale looked back at the table where Crowley was sitting to find the demon’s steely gaze already fixed on him, dark glasses down his nose so his yellow eyes glinted. Suddenly, the man began to sway on his feet, claiming he felt faint before rushing away in the direction of the restroom. Aziraphale continued on his course to the table and sat back down atop the stool at their table. 

“You didn’t have to do that, dear boy. It’s not like I was going to dance with him,” Aziraphale said as he set the drinks down on the table. Crowley let his head tilt to the side. 

“Yeah, but he shouldn’t feel entitled to feel you up,” Crowley replied. He dropped his voice lower so Aziraphale had to lean in a bit to hear him over the brassy sound of the band, “That’s my job only, Angel.”

“Well dear boy,” Aziraphale began, trying to hide the effect the demon’s words had on him, “I haven’t seen you in so long, I wasn’t sure if you even cared anymore.” Crowley raised his eyebrows. 

“Not sure if I cared? Angel, I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know,” he said, gazing at the angel across the table. Aziraphale smiled, reaching for the demon’s hand. 

“Fancy a stroll?” Aziraphale asked, rubbing his thumb across the back of Crowley’s hand. 

“Let’s,” he responded. The pair stood and slipped from the dark, loud room and out into the cool night air. They walked in comfortable silence to nowhere in particular, their joined hands hidden in the darkness of the night. Soon, they found themselves in front of the bookshop, where Aziraphale unlocked the door and ushered Crowley into the dark and warm room. Crowley wandered around the shop, running his fingers across the spines of books and along the wood of the shelves. Aziraphale watched the demon intently, taking in the swing of his hips as he walked while a certain hunger filled the angel inside. When he couldn’t take Crowley’s wandering anymore, Aziraphale walked up to him swiftly and put his arm beside the demon’s head, pinning him against one of the bookshelves. Crowley smirked at how riled up his angel was before leaning in to press their lips together. They devoured each other hungrily, their hands roaming every inch of the other as their breath mixed. 

“Bedroom?” panted Crowley. Aziraphale had one of his hands clasped under Crowley’s thigh as he kissed down the demon’s neck. Crowley was going crazy under the angel’s touch. Aziraphale grinned against the skin of Crowley’s collarbone. 

“Absolutely, dear boy,” Aziraphale answered. Crowley yelped in surprise as the angel grabbed onto his other leg and hoisted him up off his feet, carrying Crowley into the bedroom. The shades were drawn and it was dark, just how Crowley liked it to be. Aziraphale dropped him onto the bed and began to strip off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Crowley did the same from where he was. There, in the dark of Aziraphale’s bedroom, was exactly where he liked the angel best. 

Aziraphale awoke to the sun filtering in through his window, falling across his face. He rolled over to notice the other side of his bed was empty. Crowley had slipped out sometime earlier. The angel sighed before climbing out of bed and picking his rumpled clothes from the night before out of a pile on the floor and pulling them on. He made himself a cup of tea before wandering out into the main room of his bookshop to get some work done. When he stepped into the room, the mug slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor. Gabriel stood in the middle of the bookshop, inspecting one of the books on the center table. Upon the sound of the breaking porcelain, he looked up at Aziraphale, a frown furrowing his brow. 

“Aziraphale! You are just the one I was looking to speak to,” he said, his words friendly but his tone dark. Aziraphale’s stomach churned with worry. 

“Whatever is the matter, Gabriel?” He asked, trying for a nonchalant tone but his words coming out choked. 

“I got word that a certain demon was spending some time around here. That can’t be true, right?” Gabriel asked, a dangerous edge to his voice, “You wouldn’t be...fraternizing with the opposition, would you Aziraphale?” Aziraphale felt as though he were going to throw up, though he didn’t know if he actually could. 

“Fraternizing...what, no, why would I be...why would you think that?” He stuttered. Gabriel’s eyes grew colder. 

“I am no idiot, Aziraphale. I know you’ve been seeing that demon who calls himself Crowley. This is a very serious offense, one the head offices wouldn’t hesitate to execute you for...but I like you Aziraphale, so they don’t have to know, so long as I never catch you with that wretched demon ever again, understood?” Aziraphale nodded fearfully. “If I hear so much as a whisper that you’ve crossed paths, it won’t just be your demise. No, it will be the end for both of you traitors.” 

“I...I understand sir,” Aziraphale answered, barely getting his words out. Gabriel smiles in a way that made it clear it wasn’t genuine. 

“I’m glad we understand each other,” he said, and quick as a flash, he had disappeared. 

Once he was gone, Aziraphale’s knees gave out and he slid to the floor, shaking as the tears poured from his eyes. When he finally pulled himself together somewhat, he drew all the shades, flipped the shop’s sign to ‘closed’, and locked the front doors. The angel retreated into his dark bedroom, curled up on the bed and shaking slightly with fear and sorrow. He jumped at the sound of the ringing of his telephone; Aziraphale picked up the receiver and put it to his ear. As soon as he heard Crowley’s voice on the other line, he slammed the phone down and crawled back into bed with the covers over his head as though they would protect him from the wrath of the archangel Gabriel. 

Hours later, when the sun was low in the sky and Aziraphale had gathered himself enough to climb out of bed and clean up the shattered mug that still lay in pieces on the floor, he heard a familiar voice outside. 

“Angel!” Crowley yelled from the street in front of the bookshop, “Angel, are you alright? Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” Aziraphale felt tears stinging, threatening to spill forth again. He grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, scrawling out a message for the demon outside before sliding it out of the mail slot. The message merely said, “I’m sorry”. 

“Angel! What do you mean? Sorry for what?” Crowley continued to yell. 

“Crowley, please, just go,” Aziraphale called through the door, his voice tight with the pain of the word he spoke, “we can’t see each other again.”

“Angel, what the heaven are you saying?” Crowley continued. 

“Please, I’m begging you,” Aziraphale responded, tears beginning to fall, “go for your own safety. They know, about us, they know.” Crowley was silent. 

“I thought I could trust you,” Crowley said finally, his voice quiet and shaky in a way that broke Aziraphale’s heart. When he said nothing else, the angel knew he had gone and he was safe to fall apart once more, though the pain of this was much harder than being threatened. Once again, Aziraphale retreated into his room and there, in the dark, he began to put himself together again. 


End file.
